


A million little gods causing rainstorms

by atlaslov



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Child Neglect, David Acting as Max's Parental Figure | Dadvid (Camp Camp), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insomnia, Nightmares, References to Depression, Sort of? - Freeform, its not super explicit, it’s totally not me venting where would you get that idea?, lol, mom-Gwen, most of that is in ref to Max’s family, oh and m/ax/vid shippers go fuck yourself, toxic parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29575815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlaslov/pseuds/atlaslov
Summary: Max has trouble sleeping and goes to the dock at night to think. He wonders if it’s the world that’s terrible, or if it’s him that’s terrible at dealing with it. David and Gwen try their best to help him.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 19





	A million little gods causing rainstorms

Is anybody happy?  
-

I mean, he’s at a summer camp, left for three months as a way for his parents to not deal with him. Almost every one of these kids is traumatized in some way (he’s assuming), all of them were freaks. Gwen, was her unhappiness even a question? And after David’s long winded story in the car, and his obvious daddy issues, the bonfire.... thing; something was making him deeply unhappy despite the ~~annoy—~~ unrelenting naive positivity. 

He learned, relatively young, that people sucked. That no one was who they said they were. He’d been a social chameleon until this hell-hole. 

Of course it had to be this, this... sad excuse for a summer camp, where there was no social cohesion because everyone was _fucking bizarre_. 

So, because he’s used to just adopting the personality traits of whoever he’s with, and there’s no way in hell he’s adapting these campers traits, (I mean, Space Kid?) he’s had to try and become a human being with his own personality. 

He just, doesn’t know where to start. 

All his personality was without a social norm to conform to boiled down to self deprecation and being a grade-A asshole to anyone and everyone. 

And that’s what he clings to. 

He’s gone through way more than a ten year old should have to, but that’s not to say he’s the only one. 

He just wonders, why does it seem so _easy_ for everyone else to be functioning and reasonably happy despite it? Why is it so hard for him to see the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel”?

Maybe they’re just better at burying things than him. None of their issues ever seemed to strongly affect them day to day. 

Holy shit— is he actually considering the idea of learning something from these fucking weirdos? 

~~Well, maybe you can.~~

No. No, Max was an observer, and he could tell that a lot of people were more unhappy than they’d ever admit to themselves. 

At least he wasn’t in denial. 

A footstep echoing off the dock startles Max out of his thoughts. 

He’s been having more nightmares recently, and quietly slipping out of his tent to dip his toes in the lake for a few hours rather than attempt to return to a fitful sleep seemed to leave him feeling more rested than the latter. 

So far no one’s known about it, but glancing over his shoulder to see a lanky figure barely illuminated by the moon and its reflection off the water made him groan internally. If course it was David. 

“Max?” He asks, tone a bit groggy and conveying slight surprise. Like it was really a surprise Max would be breaking rules. 

Campers must be in their tents by 10:30pm at the absolute latest, staying there until morning— when David would make his rounds with a hand bell that had no right to be that loud, accompanied by his cheerful “good morning campers, campe diem!” (Which also had no right to be so loud so early.)

Feeling like the jig was up, Max simply lays back leisurely, one foot splashing a bit of water as he did so, and stares up at David’s silhouette towering over him, hands on hips. 

“You look like my sleep paralysis demon.” 

“Now, Max,” he says in that tone, and Max doesn’t even resist the urge to roll his eyes, “you know you aren’t supposed to be out of your tent until morning.” 

Max has no idea what time it is, but guesses it’s at least past midnight. 

“Just because I’m early doesn’t mean it’s not morning. I’m surprised you aren’t praising me for my ‘enthusiasm towards the new day’ or some shit.” 

David sighs, actually showing a tiredness Max has never really seen on him before and says, “It’s like 3 in the morning, Max. The sun doesn’t rise until at least 5:47 today.” 

The small tugs of sympathy are replaced with amusement and Max gives a small laugh, finally sitting up. 

“Of course you know exactly when the sun rises.” 

“Max, that’s not—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘That’s not the point.’” He cuts David off before he can finish his lecture, throws his sweatshirt back on, pulls his bare feet up onto the dock, and stands to leave. 

He doesn’t bother trying to look at David’s face as he passes, but catches a glimpse of the exhaustion anyway. 

“See you after 5:47 I guess.” 

And as he sulks back to his and Neil’s tent, he can’t help but think of David’s face, questioning once again: is anyone really happy?  
-

After a few nights of relatively normal sleep, Max finds himself wandering barefoot through the grass to the dock. Not a nightmare this time, just good old insomnia making an appearance. 

Well, partially. 

It starts with not being able to sleep and leads into incessant existential wonderings. So, to the lake it must be. 

In shorts and a t-shirt, sweatshirt dragging along beside him just in case, he finally sits down cross legged to just stare at the horizon and attempt to organize his thoughts. 

His fucked family dynamic seems to be taking the front seat tonight. 

His parents didn’t hate him, they were just... busy. Too busy to care. 

Dealing with an accidental child on top of the two they already had was proving to be a strain on every facet of the family. 

His older brother and sister were 9 and 10 years older than him respectively. He was definitely a mistake child. He’s closer in age to his niece and nephew than his own siblings. 

But Yeah— that was a thing too. His sister became involved with the wrong crowd in high school, became an addict, and had her first baby when he was only 6. Then had another the next year. 

His whole childhood revolved around fear and stress over his sister. Getting knocks on the door from juvenile officers and bailing her out from drug charges. Driving around the neighborhood (and sometimes the city at large) to try and find her whenever she had run away, and having to witness all of it because he was too young to be left at home alone. 

(Too young to understand, his parents would assure themselves. But he understood enough.) 

He understood he had to adapt. To become as non-intrusive as possible, minimizing the problems within the household. He tried to do most things on his own, to take care of himself, so his parents could focus on his sister. Their worry was truly palpable sometimes. 

He could open the door to his room and sense tension and stress without even going downstairs. Often, he would simply close the door and retreat. And sometimes even in that avoidance, yelling would reach him behind his closed door. 

And though both his siblings were adults now, his sister still lived at home on and off, fighting to regain custody of her kids from the foster system, fighting to divorce her abusive husband (and father of her kids), fighting to stay clean from whatever her drug of choice was at the time. 

His brother had fucked off as soon as he turned 18, calling rarely, not wanting to be involved in the turbulent environment any longer than he had to be. 

And even though Max was really the only kid at home still, a whole slew of issues still existed. Now, rather than his parents fighting with his sister, they would fight with each other. 

(One of the biggest bombs dropped when his mom, who has an alcohol problem, admitted while drunk that his dad, who worked out of town and was home only on weekends, was a serial cheater and had been unfaithful since the very beginning of their marriage— but they stayed together for the kids.) 

Even knowing all that, he still just does what he always did, blend into the background. Not tell them he can hear through his door when their facade threatened to crack in front of him. Feign obliviousness. 

But now that he’s getting older, (he’s fucking 10, not 80) he’s been having a lot more problems with the effects of the negligence manifesting in his mood. 

And after the recent disaster that was Parents’ Day, it just made him all the more frustrated because even if they were shitty, the other kids’ parents still managed to show up. 

Nurf’s mom, literally incarcerated, managed to show up. 

His own? Nowhere to be found despite insisting their actions were for the good of their children. 

He expected it though. He also expects them to apologize profusely once he goes home because they “totally forgot” because of being “completely overwhelmed with x/y/z.” That or they won’t even know it was something that happened. 

He tries to not let it get to him. He knows it’s not their fault. It’s not his sister’s either. He doesn’t blame them...

But he’s angry, and sad, and... whatever, and he doesn’t know where to put those emotions because he has no one to blame. 

(Easiest target is himself. There would be much less strain if he didn’t exist.) 

Max sighs heavily and wonders what time it is. He pulls his knees to his chest and hangs his toes over the edge of the dock, resting his chin on crossed arms and breathing in the night air sullenly. 

It smells like it might rain in the near future. 

He wonders if people ever figure out why the hell they’re here, especially when no one wants them to be. 

“Max?” 

He literally jumps in surprise.

“Fuck, dude!” 

How did he not hear David approach? He usually knows when someone is coming by the sound of their footsteps on the grass, and at least when they step on the dock. 

David was already just a few steps behind him. 

“Max, it’s almost 4:30.” 

(Like he had read his mind.)

“Thank you, Father Time.” 

He had joked about it before, but honestly with the lanky limbs, wild hair, and bizarre lighting, he really did look like a sleep paralysis demon. 

“Max,—“

“Okay! I know you know my name, you don’t have to say it every sentence.” 

He’s irritated, of course. Being called out and interrupted while in a safe space didn’t make him feel like being cordial. 

David huffs, apparently getting irritated as well. 

“Gwen mentioned she might have saw someone on dock while out for a moment.” 

“And?” 

“That was two hours ago.” 

Max settles back into his crossed arms and stares forward, a little surprised David waited that long to come out here, “And?” 

“You need sleep.” 

Max can’t help but scoff. “I seem to be doing just fine without it so far.” 

“That’s not exactly what I’m worried about.” There’s an audible pause, then a sigh before, “and I know you know the rules.” 

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about?” His subconscious was on the verge of trusting David, considering actually opening up for once, but instead he clicks his tongue. “I should have known that’s your first priority.”

He starts standing up, collecting his sweatshirt on the way. 

“Max,—“ David cuts himself off, now hyper aware of using his name. A sound of frustration boils up his throat. “Max, you know that’s not—“ 

And yeah, Max probably does know that worry for his well being trumps the insistence on following rules, but Max is just tired of adults right now. Tired of trying to be the non-inflammatory good kid. (If that wasn’t already clear by his previous actions at camp.) He just wants to wallow in peace. 

“No, I got it. My unruliness stains your reputation, and god forbid Mr. Campbell finds out because then who would be your fraud of an absent father figure when he disowns— or rather fires you?” Max starts walking away, seeing David’s fists clenched at his sides. _Good._

“Just listen—!” 

“No, I understand. You don’t have to _’worry’_ about me anymore.” 

“Stop, Max. That’s—“ 

Max ignores him and makes it to where the dock connects to the land before he hears light stomping behind him, and a quiet “Sometimes I just... hate...” trailing off before he can finish his own thought. 

That actually makes Max pause, and laugh humorlessly. He turns around and throws his arms up, his sweatshirt flailing in his left hand and slightly ruining the effect, “You what? You hate me?” He laughs again, and keeps walking backwards. “Well, I hate me more! I’m just a big fucking problem even I don’t want to deal with.” 

Max spins on his heel and doesn’t take a second glance back, fuming dejectedly to his tent and waiting for sleep— or more likely just the next morning.  
-

David’s affect during activities and through the daytime didn’t change, but Max definitely noticed Gwen stepping up to lead most of them during the following few days. 

Max himself was despondent, yet trying his best to simply blend in and be forgotten about. Neil and Nikki seemed satiated by his dismissive attitude and a “just don’t feel like causing trouble today.” 

They’d definitely ask more questions the longer it went on though, and he hasn’t come up with a more satisfactory explanation yet. 

He’s hoping he won’t have to.  
-

Inevitably, Max wakes up in a panic, a nightmare urging his body to wake up and get ready to fight or run if he needed to. 

Staring into the darkness, he debates if going to the dock is a bad idea. Probably.

But since when has that stopped him? 

Once he’s staring out over the water it’s easier to calm down, but the peaceful atmosphere doesn’t last long when he hears footsteps in the grass. 

He expects it, but not for it to be Gwen’s voice reaching his ears. 

“Out late again, huh?” 

“David’s sending you to do his dirty work now?” He says without turning around. 

A light shove on the back of his head makes him glare up at her, no real weight behind it. 

“I volunteered, you little shit.” 

When Max doesn’t say anything, she continues. 

“David has been beside himself agonizing over how to talk to you. Losing what little sleep he already gets.” 

He’s a bit surprised at the admission that David has trouble sleeping too, but can’t help but depreciate himself in response. 

“So I’m causing problems even when I’m not causing problems.” 

Gwen takes a moment to slip off her sandals before settling next to Max, leaning back on her hands and dipping her feet into the water. 

“He wants to help you, Max. _I_ want to help you.” 

He’s closing in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest to make himself smaller. He doesn’t answer. 

“I can see why you like it out here.” Gwen remarks after a while. “What’s got you out here tonight?” 

First he shrugs, again not intending to reply, then just decides ‘fuck it’. 

“Nightmare.” 

She hums in acknowledgment. “You comfortable telling me what it was about?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, _Gwen_.” He says, remembering her whole useless psychology studies thing, “It’s not from trauma, I just get nightmares sometimes.” 

“Hey, you were the one who brought up trauma— I was just trying to offer support. But I’ll take that as a no.” 

Max glowered into his arms, staying silent for a while, the quiet sound of the lake the only noise between them. He finally answers with an annoyed sigh. 

“I was kidnapped. And no one came looking for me. They let me leave after a while but when I tried to ask for help no one believed me.” He shakes his head sullenly. “They all just laughed, really patronizing. And when the kidnappers came to collect me the people always say I have a ‘crazy imagination’ and hand me right back over because they think it’s my parents. And the ones who took me always just say ‘see? no one would ever believe a kid, especially a kid like you.’”

There’s details he’s leaving out, like the fact it’s recurring, or like his heavy legs when trying to run away or get to a hiding spot. He’s always so close to getting away, but the fear and anxiety that builds when his legs are _just_ slow enough that he’s caught doesn’t go away. 

The heightened fear is present for however long the dream lasts. Sometimes he has to come up with his own plan to escape, but the basis of no one looking for or believing ‘a kid like him’ always remains the same. 

He’s just an easily forgotten mistake. 

“That’s pretty dark, Max.” Gwen says, not really knowing what else to say. “And trauma is different for everyone. It also isn’t a prerequisite for nightmares.” 

Max decides he’s done with vulnerability for the night and shrugs in response. 

At least he’s trying? 

“I think I’m tired enough to try and sleep again.” He’s hoping she takes the hint for this to be the end of the conversation. 

“Okay, Max. I’ll see you in the morning.” Adding an addendum more to herself than to Max, “If I don’t oversleep because man, I am _not_ a morning person.” 

She doesn’t make any moves to get up still, and only looks back when she hears the tiny “thanks” that floats through the night, but Max has already scurried away before she can answer or even confirm she heard him at all.  
-

In his tent, on the verge of falling asleep, Max clutches Mr. Honeynuts and remembers something from a time when he was much younger. (Again, he’s 10, not a senile old guy.) 

There’s a photo he has in his room at home, it’s small, not even a ‘wallet’ size. It of him at maybe 3 years old, on his mother’s lap hugging his favorite bear when it was still new, while his mom smiles lovingly down at him.

It’s one of the few memories he has from being that young, and it’s silly, because of course it is. He was like 3. 

He just remembers his mom kept asking him “Do you love your bear?” in that voice people use to talk to small children, and he would hug Mr. Honeynuts tightly and smile. 

And every time she would ask, he would snuggle in just as enthusiastically as the first time. 

It’s a good memory, one from before his worldview was shattered, before the word ‘family’ lost its meaning. Maybe that makes it more of a bittersweet memory. 

He clings to the remnants of his innocence and finally falls asleep.  
-

Max was feeling more like himself the following days, enough to help Neil and Nikki cover the ‘b’ in the ‘Camp Campbell’ sign with an ‘h’. 

And enough to flip off David when he spouted off about all the potential dangers of using ladders on such unstable ground without any safety measures. 

He could also tell that Gwen thought it was hilarious because she was not doing a very good job of keeping a straight face. And because she had openly laughed when it had first been discovered.  
-

After a week or so of getting normal and dare he say _good_ nights of sleep, Max wakes up suddenly, taking a jagged breath as he realizes he’s awake now, and that it was just a nightmare. 

He sits up and decides to sulk by the lake again. He stomps (quietly, he doesn’t want to wake Neil) to the dock, the whole way thinking that he shouldn’t have gotten so complacent, so used to sleeping well, because of course it had to be ruined. 

Life’s undeniable truth that nothing good ever stays, no happiness ever lasts. 

And that feeling only triples when he sees a figure that is definitely David already at the end of the dock. Maybe he can sneak back into his tent before David—

“Max?” 

He lets the tension fall out of his body and looks up, in a manner that signifies his giving up and asking ‘why’ to any deity that may exist. 

He walks the final length to meet David at the dock. 

“You guessed it.” Max deadpans. 

David seems nervous, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to start. 

“Look, can we get this whole thing over with?” Max pauses, feeling David look up at him surprised. “Here, I’ll start: why were you creepily waiting out here for me, and how many times have you done so to try and induce some sort of heart to heart thing?” 

And to Max’s surprise, he laughs. 

David seems to be past his nervousness when he answers, “Well, I wasn’t waiting for you. I do check out here every night to make sure you’re safe if you’re out here, but I haven’t seen you in a while so I thought I’d try your remedy for insomnia.”

“Oh.” Max feels disarmed and can’t seem to find a drop of sarcasm to spit out a reply. Eventually he starts thinking of their last late night encounter and how much of an asshole he was. He usually doesn’t feel bad about being a dick but something in him does this time. 

“Listen, I’m— I’m sorry...?” He says it almost like a question, mostly just unsure of how to put it into words, so he just trails off and sits down. 

“I didn’t mean to make my problems... your problem.” He adds quietly. 

David sighs lightly. “Thank you. I appreciate that, but I also want to address that last bit. Even the other night, you said you hate yourself. I know it might seem normal to feel like that, but it shouldn’t be. I want you to know it doesn’t have to be.” 

He glances at David, a bit stunned, but looks away immediately when he makes eye contact with such a meaningful expression. 

“I just...” Max feels unsure, and a little sick with anxiety when he finally asks the burning question that’s been plaguing him: “Is anybody happy?” 

David carefully asks him to explain a bit, “There’s a lot of answers to something like that. What do you mean?” 

“Well, it’s like, everyone always seems so happy, for the most part, but there’s always something shitty going on behind the scenes that no one knows about. Even when something is going good it never stays that way. Everything always ends up being bad again. And I can’t— 

Either no one is truly happy or I’m just this pathetic chickenshit that can’t deal with normal life problems.” 

David sighs in a way that seems like a cross between astonishment and sadness, and takes his time to answer. 

“I don’t have all the answers,” and when Max makes an annoyed sound David continues pointedly before he closes in on himself, “ _but,_ just because people have bad things going on in their life, doesn’t mean that the happiness they show is fake. It also doesn’t mean that you’re ‘bad at handling things.’

Happiness isn’t that black and white. Life isn’t that black and white. People can have excellent lives and still be unhappy. People can have horrible, traumatic lives and find ways to be happy. 

I mean, I won’t lie though, growing up _sucks_. It’s the freaking worst. That alone is enough to make someone feel like crap, not to mention those ‘behind the scenes’ issues that can compound those feelings. Especially when it seems like you’re the one who’s feeling that way.

Everyone deals with things differently, but blaming yourself won’t help. You didn’t ask to be born. Nobody asks to be born. You’re thrown into the world with no say and suddenly people expect you to just ‘figure it out.’

And... I want to be one of the people who helps you figure it out. You don’t have to do things alone.” 

David smiles down at Max, who is facing forward with furrowed brows, biting his lip absentmindedly as he takes all this in. 

“And maybe, it’s not the good things that never last. Maybe it’s the bad things that never stay.” 

Max feels... something. Something like melancholy, not quite contented... but better. He’s still not one hundred percent sure how he feels, but the task of existing doesn’t seem quite as impossible anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ‘Wake Up’ by The Arcade Fire, I was trying to think of a title (that wasn’t just ‘is anybody happy’) so I went to my sorta sad playlist and thought the whole song in general was really fitting. I think it’s a great look at growing up and coming to terms with it, while realizing you don’t always have to put up with the world’s bullshit. 
> 
> (I just really love this song okay, it’s sad but still positive) 
> 
> Also yeah this is me looking at my own experiences and how much I wish I had someone to help me deal with all of it, and wishing I had opened up about how much I was actually struggling. 
> 
> Please, there is someone, somewhere who will understand and listen to you. You deserve to be happy.


End file.
